Date: Sat, 19 Oct 2002 20:03:38 EDT
From: Louisamay1111@aol.com
Subject: Kimberly's View ch1

    Kimberly lay in bed and cuddled her lover. "Mmmm. . ."
she nuzzled the woman's musky neck. "You make me come so long,"
she whispered. "So amazing. . ." she kissed a delicate earlobe.
"How do you do that?"
    The woman stroked Kimberly's damp back, smoothed her
hair. With a ripe French accent, she murmured, "I took a course
at University. I sink it was called "Cunnilinguistiques," or
"Licking Ze Americaine Girls," or somesing. . .Oohee!"
    Kimberly had lightly pinched her lover's nipple.
"Smartypants," she giggled, then kissed the woman softly on the
lips. She looked into her dark eyes. "I love you, Tonzie," she
whispered. ("Tonzie" being short for "Hortense" -- pronounced
"Orr-tahnz", which Kimberly had refused to try from the time
they met.)
    Tonzie smiled at her. "And I you, cherie. . ."
    Kimberly snuggled in again. "Mmmm. . ." A thought
struck her. "I can't believe you're going to be Michelle's
Teacher! That is so cool. . ."
    "Yes. . ." Tonzie kissed the top of Kimberly's head.
"Maybe not so much for Michelle. I am very streect."
    "Well. . .she could use a little streectness." And
chuckled as Tonzie gave her a light slap on the bum.
    Michelle was Kimberly's 12-year-old daughter. She was
just now starting to blossom, and Kimberly had shared her fears
and desires with Tonzie, at first shamefully, then gratefully.
The Frenchwoman proved to be completely open and welcoming to
her lover's lust for her own daughter, and that relieved the
young mother immensely. Indeed, sometimes Tonzie brought the
issue into their sexplay, and it drove Kimberly wild.
    Kim had recently confessed to her lover the desire to
someday see her little girl make love to another woman. All
Tonzie did was raise an eyebrow.
    "I know, it's WEIRD, it is so weird. . ."
    Tonzie shook her head. "Non. . .it is just not talked
about."
    Kim looked at her. "Because. . .well, YES, it would be
such an unbeLIEvable turn-on, seeing my baby kissing another
woman. . ."
    "Her cute little derriere. . ."
    Kimberly smiled sheepishly. "I should never have told
you that. . ." She sighed. "But yes, her cute, aDORable little
tush, but. . .I just have thought of her making out with some.
. .JERK, some douchebag, who doesn't care, and hurts her, or. .
." she shook her head. A pause. She looked at Tonzie. "But,
yes, It would make me incredibly hot as well. . ."
    That had been a month or so ago. Now, as they lay
together in the near-darkness, Tonzie murmured, "I could be her
teacher in ozzer ways, too. . ." She felt Kimberly's body
stiffen against her. "Or not."
    Kim's head came up, her eyes wide. "No. . .is that. .
.?" She buried her face in Tonzie's neck and shuddered. Then
she came up again, her face flushed. "Would you. . .do that?"
Tonzie smiled. Kimberly fell on her and hugged her tightly.
"Ohhhh, TONZ!!" She stopped and looked again at her lover.
"And. . .I could. . .?"
    "Of course you would be zair, zat's de point, nest-ce
pas? Or. . . " and she brushed a hair from Kim's face, "one of
ze points."
    And so began the plan. Tonzie kept Kimberly apprised of
the proceedings, as little Michelle commenced French class, and
became one of Tonzie's (Madame Amselle's!) star pupils.
    And Michelle herself became aware of how classically
beautiful her new French teacher was. Every so often she found
herself, in her seat in the front row by the teacher's desk,
staring at M. Amselle's elegant figure. There were a few times
when she caught her teacher sitting sideways at her desk during
a test. Michelle peeked upwards, and saw that underneath the
trimly crossed legs, M. Amselle wore the most shiny, colorful
underpants she'd ever seen! It kind of took her breath away,
these little discoveries. She was quite in awe of Madame.
    Then there were the piano lessons her mother had
started her on. Apparently, Madame was an accomplished pianist,
so one Friday afternoon Michelle found herself being welcomed
by Madame Amselle into her home.
    What was so surprising to the girl was that her teacher
wasn't dressed as she was for class. Indeed, instead of the
suave suits and metropolitan outfits she favored, Madame now
wore only a simple grey sweatshirt over a pair of baggy blue
shorts. She was even barefoot! And even her feet, Michelle
noticed, were elegant.
    It would be a short introductory class, she was told. A
little playing to see what she knew, and a short talk. More
next week. Michelle played what she remembered from a Chopin
etude while Madame sat cross-legged on a couch nearby. When
Michelle had finished, Madame began critiquing, outlining what
they would work on. Michelle turned to listen, and saw that
Madame wore no underwear! The reason she knew this was that
Madame's shorts opened out in her position, and revealed a lot
more than Michelle believed Madame was aware. And as Madame
gave her comments with eyes closed, as someone who had savored
the music and wanted to relive and remember the sensation,
Michelle was able to really look at what she'd noticed: the
blue shorts to one side, and Madame's hair between her legs,
her actual vagina! Michelle was sure, were visible. The girl
was sure, as well, that a pinkness and a glistening were also
visible in there, and she was awestruck. Madame finished her
critique and opened her eyes, and Michelle, blushing, looked
away.
    The next weeks and months went by in a similar way, the
big difference being that Michelle became more and more
comfortable with her beautiful and eccentric teacher. Miss
Amselle continued to dress quite casually, and loosely, so that
Michelle was afforded quite a few exciting glimpses of her
teacher's nakedness. Indeed, it was one of the things the
little girl looked forward to in the week (the other being, of
course, French class.) Michelle especially liked the fact that
Miss Amselle touched her a lot. She supposed that was the
French way, to pat, and stroke, and caress like she did. At
first it was kind of embarrassing, but in time Michelle came to
enjoy it. She would almost purr when, after a particularly good
effort at the piano, the woman would applaud and lean over to
hug her from behind. Michelle felt Miss Amselle's soft breasts
press against her back as the woman murmured her praise. Then
she kissed Michelle on her thin neck, which sent a shiver of
pleasure right through the girl.
    One particularly encouraging session occurred a few
months into her lessons. Michelle had at this time been
increasingly disheartened by her school life, especially the
girls who were supposedly her peers. They made fun of her
bookishness, and her lack of womanly growth. And at one point
during their lesson, Miss Amselle made a comment to the effect
of what a beautiful girl Michelle was. Michelle made a face,
then after a few more minutes, said, "do you really think so?"
    Miss Amselle looked down her glasses. "Do I really
think so what?"
    Michelle lost her nerve. "Oh, nothing."
    Her teacher was intrigued. "Nussing. Hmm."
    Molly saw the raised brows. "Oh, just. . .you said I
was a beautiful girl." She rolled her eyes. "So. . .do you
really think so, . . .is what I said. . ."
    Miss Amselle took Michelle's hand. With a serious look,
she said, "stand up."
    Michelle did so. Her teacher walked her to the middle
of the floor, then turned her so that they were both facing a
large, full-length mirror.
    What neither could see, but only one was aware, was a
door slightly ajar at the far end of the room. On the other
side of this door stood Kimberly, so excited she could barely
stand still.
     "Look." Michelle looked, and saw herself, a young,
immature girl with hardly a boob to speak of and no hips.
Standing by her, she saw Madame Amselle, who she felt was the
most beautiful woman she had ever seen. Even more beautiful
than her mother, which was saying quite a lot. Even in an old
jean skirt and work shirt, Madame was gorgeous.
    "Are you looking?" Michelle nodded. Miss Amselle smiled
and shook her head. "Oh, Michelle. . .can you not see how
beautiful you are?" Michelle blushed.
    "Turn around. Now look." As Michelle looked over her
shoulder at herself, Madame stood close, facing her. She put
her manicured hands around Michelle's hips. "Do you see? All
zose ozzer girls, your classmates and such, have the big, fat
hips. And zere bottoms?" and Madame's hands snaked around to
actually cup Michelle's bottom! Michelle blushed again, and
felt her knees weaken as she smelled the light perfume of
Madame's neck and watched the woman's hands grasp her butt in
the mirror. "Look! Your bottom is PERFECT!" The hands squeezed
to make their point. Michelle was feeling a bit faint.
"Perfect." A finishing pat, and the hands removed themselves to
turn Michelle around.
    Kimberly touched herself through her jeans. A very
quiet "Ohh."
    "Now. Look again. What do you see?"
    Michelle was still a little woozy, and said nothing.
She vaguely realized that she was excited at the prospect of
being touched again. She was right.
    "Your. . .breasts??" Madame stood behind her now and
her large hands palmed the girl's ribcage, then slid upwards to
rest on her budding breasts. Michelle was wearing a T-shirt on
this day, and felt sure her self-described 'freaky' nipples
would give her away.
    "Look at zese, Michelle. Zese are BEAUTIFUL! Yes?"
Michelle could not stop blushing."Zey are, my dear, I assure
you. Ze ozzer girls, pah! Big old fat American boobies zat ze
men want so zey can marry zair mozzers. So. You see? Silly
girl, you are beautiful." And she kissed Michelle's neck. "Now
get back to ze piano." With a sadistic little smirk to her
left, she ushered Michelle away.

    Michelle went over that occasion over and over in her
mind. It just made her feel so good! Screw the other stupid
girls! Madame likes ME, so THERE! And there were times in her
bed when, going over Madame's mirror talk, Michelle's hand
would creep down to her bare little tingle, while the other
would be Madame's hand at her breast, and Madame would go on to
squeeze and twist at Michelle's long, rubbery nipples, and it
would be Madame's hand, then, between Michelle's thighs,
caressing the moist lips, crooning in her ear that "Ziss. . .is
a beautiful tingle, Michelle. . ." And this would never fail to
bring Michelle to a gushing, aching, heartfelt orgasm.